


The King and the Blacksmith

by Neverever



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Secrets, Sieges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7047979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/pseuds/Neverever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Steven of York becomes friends with Tony, a refugee with a mysterious past. Tony hides his inheritance as a Dragonlord yet wants to help his friend the King. Steve is falling for the blue-eyed man but has to fight off Hydra invaders, leaving him little time for love. Can they find a happy ending together despite a war and secrets?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King and the Blacksmith

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2016 Captain America-Iron Man RBB.
> 
> I worked with a wonderful artist, Arctua who wanted a story about King Steve and Dragonlord Tony. Hope this story matches your vision!
> 
> Check out the amazing, terrific art on the [masterpost](http://captainneverever.tumblr.com/post/145238230190/tonyrumiko-my-first-entry-for-the-cap-ironman). 
> 
> Links to art: [here](https://67.media.tumblr.com/b51557056189b0b736d9ceb5de4ed860/tumblr_o81v1oS4nL1qgnt0po2_r1_1280.png) and [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/ad9f1b6e9bce6e7eb7dec66db1622a48/tumblr_o81v1oS4nL1qgnt0po1_r1_1280.png).
> 
> Thanks to beta Arms_plutonic for all her help!

Steve watched thick roiling black fluid run through what used to be the Eastern River. “They’ve poisoned the river,” he said in a low voice. He could see the smoking remains of a trading outpost on the other bank. “And not long ago.”

“This isn’t good,” Carol said. 

He shook his head. The loss of the river to Hydra cut York from the kingdom of Baxteria to the northeast and the free lands of Westchester to the southeast. “No, it isn’t. We should prepare for more refugees.” He turned his horse away from what used to be the river that bordered their small country.

“We can’t take in many more,” she said.

“We’ll manage. We have to.”

“As you wish, your majesty.”

They followed the road twisting around low hills on the way to their small walled city of Brooklyn. Steve’s dark thoughts occupied him during the long ride home. If Hydra took the river, how long would it be before they raided the villages along the river in Steve’s country? He could tell that Carol had the same thoughts. 

They met Clint and a company of soldiers at a village tavern halfway to York. Steve would not rest easy until he returned home. He would not rest easy until the Hydra threat was eliminated. Clint and Carol watched him during their simple meal. He put his goblet down hard on the table. “You were right, Clint. I needed to see the river.”

“What are we going to do?” an agitated Clint asked. 

“We have to do something for the villagers,” Steve said. 

“But how and what?” Carol mused.

Steve needed to plan, to evaluate the situation, to consider his weapons and troops on hand. “We might have longer than we think. Poisoning the river was a warning. We’ve seen the signs before. But that doesn’t mean an attack right now. Or for days.”

In the morning he left directions for the soldiers to patrol along the river, giving them enchanted papers and homing pigeons to summon help. Clint had begged to be allowed to stay behind. But Steve needed him back at the city. “You’ll have plenty to do, Clint,” Steve said, clasping his friend’s shoulder. 

“I don’t like this, your majesty, not at all.”

“None of us do.”

Steve ruled the lands that lay between the Eastern River and the Western River. His country of York was not as large nor as fabled as Asgard to the far north or the great mountain ranges of the legendary Dragonlords in the distant east. York, with its rolling hills, ancient forests, and sweet pasture lands, now stood as one of the last free kingdoms in the world against the Hydra invaders. Nothing had been heard from King Richard of Baxteria or Chieftain Xavier in months. The loss of the Eastern River to the Skull and his Hydra army would only make things worse.

As they arrived home, Steve wondered if he was imagining that the refugee camp outside the city had grown in the short time they were away. They rode through the close-in tents, barely able to avoid tripping over the tent ropes. Steve winced as the refugees rushed up to him, praising his name, thanking him for their safety.

Clint touched his arm. “There are more every day.”

“Sam is going to have move some of these people,” Carol observed.

Steve didn’t want to think about it. All these people couldn’t fit inside the walls of the city. He’d have to find a way to protect them. He didn’t know how much time they had. He’d have to make time.

He didn’t bother to change clothes or seek refreshment before calling his counselors and captains to meet with him -- those who were in the city. He had dispatched knights to his borders in hopes of securing the roads, mountain passes and river crossings. He spread out a map of kingdom over the heavy wooden table in the council room.

His knights and counselors gathered around the table. Carol reported out what they found at the Eastern River. Sam confirmed that many refugees – those who been lucky enough to escape from the east side of the river – had been making their way to the city. 

“I wonder if I can change the river back,” Wanda said. 

“Hydra has a deeply corrupting magic,” T’Challa replied. “I do not know if any of us here have the skill to undo it.” T’Challa had been on a trade mission to York when his country was overrun by Hydra, or at best, cut off from the rest of the world. Steve knew how troubled he was not knowing what had happened to his homeland.

Bruce the alchemist rubbed his chin. “Hydra doesn’t always use magic – this could be science. The Dragonlords would know.”

Wanda’s brother, Pietro, slammed his hand on the table. “The Dragonlords are nothing but trouble – assuming that any survived the fall of Hatten to Skull and Hydra. They brought this disaster to us all by giving Hydra the weapons to destroy the world, handing over even their dragons.”

“Pietro,” Steve said firmly. Pietro and Wanda had fled Westchester when Hydra overran Hatten and he knew well how they felt about the powerful, legendary Dragonlords. Steve turned his attention back to the map and he ticked off all the countries and lands now conquered by Hydra. He had much to think on. “We’ll meet tomorrow – bring me your best ideas on what we must do next.”

Carol lingered behind as the rest filed out. “Your majesty, if I may suggest. Perhaps an early night? You seem worn.”

Steve smiled. “I’m fine, Carol. I’ll pass on dinner in the hall tonight though.”

“The people will miss seeing you –“ 

He nodded. “I’ll make an appearance in the city tomorrow.”

Carol pursed her lips, then decided to not ask whatever else was on her mind. “Tomorrow, then.” She left. 

Steve studied the map for a while, jotting down notes and questions as they came to his mind. Then he changed into a well-worn tunic and trousers. He had not been born to the monarchy, but elected after the death of King Erskine when he had returned from his travels abroad. The trappings of the office weighed heavy on him. At least Carol had not asked about his plans for the evening, obviously assuming that Steve would be spending it with his books and maps.

He made his way out of the castle down to the rest of the city. He knew the way like the back of his hand since he learned all the twists and turns of the streets of the city when he was a small boy. Besides, he had walked this way many times over the past three months in the early evening. Glad not to be recognized, he found the small blacksmith shop tucked away at the end of a little used alley running along the city wall.

He knocked on the door, calling, “Tony?”

Tony opened the door as he did on the other evenings. “Steve! I heard you came back today.”

Steve stepped inside the warm smithy. The forge was small for the type of work Tony did. But Tony counted himself lucky for even getting the shop, forge and a small room for sleeping in the back. He had come to Brooklyn in the first wave of refugees many months ago. Since then, he had steadily built a strong business with loyal customers. No job was too small or simple for Tony to tackle. 

Looking around, Steve saw that Tony had already laid out a meager meal of bread and stew. He felt a pang of guilt when Tony laid out another bowl for Steve. “Tony, you don’t have to.”

“Nonsense, I have plenty to share,” Tony said, waving off his protests. “I fixed a wagon axle today and this is how I was paid – soup, bread and pie. Food is better than gold lately.”

Steve swung his leg up and over the bench. “Thanks, Tony.”

The fire roared on the heath not far from the table. The heat eased the weariness in Steve’s muscles and joints. Tony chatted about the work he had done over the past few days while Steve traveled. He brought out the thick ledger with all his drawings and latest ideas. Steve smiled at Tony’s enthusiasm, his elegant and strong fingers dancing along his illustrations, and his cleverness. In all his travels, he had never met anyone as smart as Tony.

After dinner and pie, they moved a bench and Tony’s only chair to face the fire and Steve poured out the ale he brought, his contribution to the evening, in mugs, one for him and one for Tony. 

“I heard about the river,” Tony said.

Steve nodded. “I don’t know if we can do anything about it.” He fell into dark thoughts as he stared into the snapping and crackling fire. 

Tony patted Steve’s arm. “You’ll find a way – after all, you’re the legendary king of York.”

He took a deep breath. “Legends aren’t always true.”

Tony snorted. “Even we heard about King Steven of York back where I came from. How he defeated seven great enemies to save his country, his epic journeys even to the mythical Atlantis, and his tremendous feats in tournaments.”

“I don’t know about that.” Steve sipped his ale. He liked being here, in Tony’s smithy with Tony. His visits started when he needed a strap fixed on his shield that the royal blacksmith couldn’t quite repair. He’d heard stories about a refugee smith and the miracles he could forge. Tony had fixed the strap in seconds but only asked to share a meal in payment. They became close friends to the point that Steve insisted that Tony not call him by any title in private. “Depends on where you’re from.”

“A place far, far, far away and likely conquered by Hydra now.”

“Right.” Steve stretched out his legs and yawned. He knew he should go and soon. He had a long day ahead of him in the morning. He had to oversee training, figure out what to do with the refugees, read trade agreements, do whatever else remained of king’s business. And strategize what to do about Hydra’s imminent invasion in the remaining time. 

“Leaving?” Tony asked softly.

He turned to Tony, whose handsome face glowed with the firelight, his blue eyes dark. If Tony asked him, he’d stay longer. He wanted to – this was the only place he could find any peace. And the company was always excellent. He reluctantly stood. “Yes.” He paused. “Can – can I come by tomorrow?”

“Any time, Steve.”

Tony closed and barred the door once Steve had left. He piled up the dishes from dinner and rinsed them in a bucket in a corner of the room. He pulled out a bowl of meat scraps the butcher around the corner gave him and set the bowl near the hearth. “It’s safe to come out now.”

A small gold dragon, little larger than a dog, crept out from behind the curtain that covered the door to Tony’s bedroom. She trotted over to the bowl of scraps. Tony ran his hand over her smooth scales. “Good girl, Friday.”

He sat back down in his chair. He was sketching out ideas for armor for Steve. Steve deserved much better armor than he was wearing or that the royal blacksmith could devise. Friday chirped at him after cleaning the bowl out. “You like that, don’t you, girl? Best scraps on the street.” She waddled over to bump his outstretched hand with her head. She curled up on his feet, burped in contentment, and settled in for a rest.

Tony could imagine the picture that they made, Dragonlord and dragon, sitting on his chair with the broken rungs, the worn furniture, the thin curtain in the doorway, and the tiny forge already close to bursting with tools, repair work, and projects. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he slept better on the lumpy mattress than on the ground. In all honesty, he was happier here than he had been in his lofty mansion in Hatten among the other Dragonlords. And more useful.

If the good people of York found out that he was a Dragonlord, they would drive him out of the country with pitchforks. He had been surprised to find how little regard the people of the world had for his own people. He knocked back the remains of Steve’s ale. Back to thinking about armor, he tapped the tip of the stylus against his lips. He had his work cut out if he intended to convince Steve to try this armor. 

~~~~~

Tony opened his forge in the afternoon, much later than the other shopkeepers in the city. For one thing, he never got the hang of waking up early, even as he fled his homeland after the Hydra invasion. He spent his mornings shopping for food and bartering for metals and other supplies. Then he had a few hours before opening to work on customer orders.

Friday zipped around the forge, bringing Tony tools and supplies when asked. Or helpfully blowing a directed stream of fire over Tony’s forge. Tony had a mountain of work to get through. Despite his location far away from the city main streets, he had a constant stream of customers asking if he could repair that tool or this priceless heirloom and did he take chickens in payment. Tony always took chickens in payment. Friday had taken a liking to the local breeds.

Absorbed in his work, he didn’t hear the first knock until the knocks became loud thuds. He froze. Maybe today was the day that he would be run out of town for being a Dragonlord. 

“Blacksmith Tony?” a man shouted. 

Heart leaping into his throat, he shooed an squawking, indignant Friday from her warm perch in front of the fire into his small bedroom. He smoothed down his work clothes, finger-combing his hair into presentable shape. He opened his door to two city guards.

He didn’t recognize either one, except that they were young and had ill-fitting armor. “Can I help you?” He could help by fixing the shorter one’s helmet to start with. 

“We’ve been told you’re the best smith in the city,” the shorter one said. “Could you fix this?” He held out his sword. 

Tony took the standard-issue sword, which had been sloppily forged to begin with. The guard was loose and the leather on the grip was giving away. “It won’t take long. Come back later this afternoon.”

“Thank you,” the guard gushed. “I won’t be on duty until tomorrow morn.”

“We’ll be back,” the taller guard said. She clapped the other guard on the shoulder. “I told you we should come here. King Steven says that Tony is the best smith in all of York.”

His heart skipped a beat at Steve’s praise. He nodded and wrote out a ticket for the guard to bring back to reclaim the sword. The shorter guard tucked away the ticket and turned to leave with the other guard, chatting as they left. Tony’s mood sank when he overheard that Steve was planning to travel north to track down rumors of a Hydra raiding party.

Tony had plenty of work on hand he should pay attention to. Not worrying about Steve and whether he’d return this time. He scritched Friday’s scaly head at his knee. “I wish Rhodey was here, or Pepper,” he said to the dragon. “He’s going to get himself killed, you know.”

Friday chirped sadly back at him.

“He’s a good king,” Tony said. He sat heavily down at his worktable to examine the guard’s sword. “I should think of something better than new armor to help him.”

The dragon reared up to plant her clawed feet on Tony’s knee and glared at him.

“Steve and his knights are the only people who can stop Hydra. And I know that no one can know that I’m the last of the Dragonlords. But I have to help Steve. Someway, somehow.” And if he could help save York, then maybe he could make up for the past. Maybe he could even go home, if there was any home left.

~~~~

Sam arrived in the castle courtyard while Steve and Carol were organizing for the trip north. Soldiers and servants bustled about piling up supplies, arms and other equipment needed for the company size Steve planned to take. A grim Clint tested arrows and bows, critically eyeing each one before approving it for packing. The humid summer air felt oppressive and hot in the crowded space and people and animals milled about stirring up dust. 

Steve and Carol were sitting at a small table covered with papers and maps. Steve patiently put rocks on the papers as the activity around him stirred up the mess. He deftly issued orders to his knights and guards. 

Carol argued with Steve about coming with him to Thor’s outpost. “I hate staying behind,” she said. “I want to be where the action is, your majesty.”

“You’re my rock, Carol. If Thor is right, he’s facing a serious fight on his hands. I need people I can count on to be where I need them the most.”

Carol narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t come back --”

“It’s not that.” Steve sighed. “I’ve sent Pietro to the Eastern River to keep watch on the east bank. There could be raids while we’re in the north.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “I’ll be ready if they come. And they’ll be sorry if they do.”

“Pietro should find out who the Hydra leaders are. We know nothing.” Steve smiled at Sam. “Good to see you.”

A servant ran up with a chair for Sam. Steve had known Sam since they were skinny barefoot boys running through the streets of Brooklyn. Sam stood by him through the years, all of Steve’s fights and troubles, the miraculous magic that had saved Steve’s life, and when Steve had been at his lowest when he returned to York. Now he was first among all of Steve’s councilors. 

“Do we have any room in the dungeon?” Sam asked. 

Steve frowned, knitting his brows together. “Only if it is necessary.”

“The city guards broke up a fight in the refugee camp last night.” Sam leaned forward towards Steve. “A group of refugees from Hatten came here a couple of days ago. The men accused them of being Dragonlords, or something like that.”

“Too many people have it wrong about the Dragonlords,” Carol muttered. “Dragonlords were oligarchs that ruled Hatten and the surrounding lowlands. Any Hatten refugees are just fleeing Hydra. They should be left alone.”

Steve had traveled through Hatten and its large trading city of Park many years ago, but never to the breathtaking marble cities soaring high above. He had glimpsed the mansions, city buildings and arcades carved into the mountains. He wondered what it was like to live among dragons. What it was like to fly. “Don’t you have a friend who lived in Park?”

“Sir James of Rhodes,” Carol said. She smiled at the memory of her friend. “It’s been too long since we fought together against Hydra. James told me about a friend of his -- I think the friend was related to one of the oligarch families. He never said a bad word about his friend.”

“My guards have five men to send to the dungeons if there’s room,” Sam said. 

“There’s room,” Steve conceded. “How are the plans going for moving the refugees away from the city?”

“Some of the refugees have moved on their own -- the news of the Eastern River is causing a lot of anxiety in the city and beyond.” 

“Beyond the Western River -- no one know what’s in the Wilds or if there’s any safety there,” Carol said.

“That’s why we have to stand our ground,” Steve said firmly. “They come to us for protection and a chance to live peaceful lives. I’m going to defend this land to my last breath.”

~~~~~

The journey to Thor’s northern outpost would take about two days, assuming the weather held. Thor willingly took on the defense of the northern border. He had barely escaped Hydra’s attack on Baxteria and fled to York, since all the roads back to his home country of Asgardia were closed to him. He couldn’t even use any magic to open a path home. 

Steve didn’t know what he riding into. Thor had said he wanted Steve’s advice concerning fortifications but the last message hinted at possible Hydra raids. The constant raiding was sapping all his forces’ energies. The wear and tear was killing his army. Fear and worry heavy on their hearts, no one rode or walked with light spirits or high hopes to the outpost.

At least Thor was pleased to see him when Steve arrived at dusk on the second day. “Your majesty, it is a joy to see you!” Thor stated, thumping Steve on the back. “Come. Eat, rest.” 

Thor in his exile had created a small Asgardia in his outpost, complete with feasting hall. Thor’s friends who had escaped with him into exile already were at dinner. They cheered Steve and his knights as they strode into the torchlit hall. Someone gave Steve a tankard of ale as Thor cleared a path to his table.

Steve and T’Challa were given seats of honor. Thor felt a kinship with the other exiled prince, and they had developed a friendship while in York. When Steve asked about the raids, Thor shook his head. “Tomorrow, King Steven. Tonight, we celebrate the visit of well-loved friends and joy of life.”

T’Challa said, “Indeed, we should enjoy dinner.”

Steve nodded. Then he wondered where all the food and drink came from as trays of meats, breads, and roast vegetables passed around the table. He listened to T’Challa and Thor talk but Thor revealed nothing about his current problems. Just as well, Steve thought. Thor appeared careworn despite his cheerfulness.

The flickering light of the torches, warmth of the fire and the low rumble of the crowd lulled Steve into a doze, only to jerk himself awake. He was losing the fight against sleep. If he were home, Tony would tease him about falling asleep in his dinner. He thought about Tony, who likely puttering around his forge right now in Brooklyn. 

Steve could easily have never met Tony if the strap hadn’t given way on his shield. Bruce told him about Tony, a new refugee who had been blessed with a magic touch for making and repairing all sorts of things. Steve had been surprised to meet a man with fire in his blue eyes but a gentle touch with Steve’s beloved shield. “The old girl’s seen a lot of action,” he explained to Tony. Tony understood and fixed the strap. He handed the shield back to Steve with a gorgeous smile. 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts of Tony. He had grown fond of the clever metalsmith. If they all survived the summer and fought off Hydra, maybe he could find out if there was something more than friendship there.

“Heavy lies the crown, eh?” Clint asked. He leaned forward to look down the table at Steve.

“Any news?” Steve replied.

“No one wants to talk about it.” Clint shrugged. “But I’m gathering it’s all the usual things we run into with Hydra.”

Steve took a deep breath. He had some homework after all before the dawn. 

“You look tired. I thought with that magic that saved your life you didn’t get tired like the rest of us mortals.”

He laughed. “I still get tired, Clint.” 

One of Thor’s people showed Steve to the chamber set aside for his use. Everyone else save Thor would sleep in the hall. Steve sat down at the rickety wooden table with an old, broken lamp that shed enough light for him to write and read maps.

Hydra had to be stopped.

~~~~~

Tony didn’t have nightmares. Not like the other refugees who fled from conquered cities and poisoned fields and rivers. He’d heard the stories and rumors about what had happened to the Dragonlords and Hatten. Hydra had set the great mansions and ancient dragon aeries on fire, stealing anything and everything they could lay their hands on, scattering the dragons to the four winds, and the mountains burned for days. People fled from Hatten villages and cities, seeking safety and wandering the ruined countryside with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Hydra raiders stole everything from those left behind and enslaved them. 

That’s not exactly what had happened. Tony had been there. 

He’d grown up on Stark Peak, scion of a great oligarchic Dragonlord family. From birth, anything he needed or wanted or thought he might want was handed to him, except for his father’s love and approval. But Tony had a saving grace. He was a born metal-crafter and inventor. He spent hours and hours tinkering and building fantastic creations and dreamed of flying like the dragons who surrounded his family. 

Better yet, he had the gift of summoning dragons. His father, Howard, deigned to teach him the traditional art, half-expecting his chatty, dreamy-eyed, half-grown boy to fail. Howard carefully placed the heirloom summoning amulet on Tony’s neck as they stood on the high summoning peak. He sternly warned Tony about dropping the amulet and recited tales of the dragons that gave it to the first lord of Stark Peak. Tony did as his father instructed. He closed his eyes and thought of dragons. The amulet glowed blue as Tony reached out for a dragon, any dragon that would respond to his call. The dragons came, swirling around the summoning peak. All the Stark Peak dragons came, flying on powerful wings, dipping their heads to greet Tony, the newest Dragonlord. Tony watched in awe as dragons in the iridescent colors of the rainbow danced around him and his father and then soared off into the sky. 

When they returned home, Maria greeted them nervously. “How did it go?”

Howard sighed. “Well enough, I guess.”

Maria looked at Tony, who still had a smile plastered on a face. His father disappeared into his study while Maria fed Tony cookies and cake in the kitchen and listened with joy as Tony talked endlessly about the dragons.

All was good and right in the world, and Tony grew into a man his father couldn’t understand. They could barely talk about anything beyond the weather and the success of their business interests. Despite the rift with his father, Tony grieved when his father and mother died in an accident and he became the Dragonlord of Stark Peak.

Which was where he would have been left to history to live out his life in relative peace. He built his inventions, tended to his trade, and visited his friends in Park, the city in the lowlands below the Hatten Peaks. Life was good. Even if he sat at night, Friday curled up on his feet, the tip of her tail twitching with each breath, to read about others’ adventures and quests. Like the famous King Steven of York, who was the best and most noble knight in all the lands under the sun. His friend Rhodey, the famous James of Rhodes, bragged about meeting King Steven on some quest or other. Tony scoffed that Steven couldn’t be all that.

Rhodey and Tony were sitting in a warm tavern drinking ale and catching up on a month’s worth of news. Jim had been named the new Captain of the Guard. Though that didn’t stop Tony from trying to lure him to Stark Peak. Rhodey talked about fighting ogres on the border with Carol of York, who been on a quest in Hatten. Tony listened, ready to tease Rhodey about his crush on the talented and lovely knight.

Their reunion was harshly interrupted when a man burst into the tavern shouting about a Hydra raid. 

Rhodey and his guard rallied in time to stop the raid. Tony hated watching as his friend sallied forth to meet the enemy. Nothing in his life had prepared him for fighting. 

The waves of raids kept coming after that. Tony forged armor and arms for the lowlands soldiers fighting valiantly. But even he could see that their cause was lost unless the Dragonlords joined in the war.

Tony put on his own armor and strode into the meeting of the Dragonlords. They were all there -- Obadiah of Stane Peak, Sunset of Bain, Justin of Hammer, Ty of Stone and the rest. Tony pled his case to stand up against Hydra. He expected a resounding answer of yes.

What he got were hems and haws and worries over commerce and not wanting to offend trading partners. He heard complacency and the belief that letting Hydra alone would lead to Hydra going away. He wanted to yell and scream at the lack of foresight from the ruling families. He knew they were all in danger, and he could not let his friends suffer when he could do something, anything.

He knew the truth -- the Dragonlords didn’t lose to Hydra, they rolled over and offered up money, lands and alliances, thinking they could ultimately outsmart an enemy who despised them. They were not noble, but craven cowards who still lost everything they had to the relentless Red Skull and his lieutenants.

Knowing that he was truly on his own, Tony made his people leave Stark Peak before they were trapped. He tried a desperate last stand, fleeing in the end from his ancestral home with only the amulet that was his birthright and one undersized workshop dragon. He barely made it to Park before the siege. He thought he was safe, helping Rhodey as best he could. In the end, they couldn’t save the city. Tony’s last sight of Rhodey was as he was carried away on a boat.

He wandered long and far, haunted by Rhodey and all the people he had worked with, Pepper, Happy and Bambi. He hid Friday as best he could, afraid for her life should she be found. Country and city folk and other refugees spat and cursed the Dragonlords. Reduced to rags and eating crusts of bread, Tony lay awake one night on a bed of straw in a damp barn and heard about the blessed country of York that took in all refugees, no questions asked.

York proved to be a haven for him. A place where he gathered his wits, fed his starved soul, and found his creative spark again. Here he could be himself, to a point. He still feared what would happen if his past were discovered.

Tony looked over the poor excuses for carrots in the farmer’s stall and paid the price. He would make stew again that night. Steve would be happy with stew again, even if Tony wasn’t. He shook his head. He was getting too fond of Steve, worried and fretted over him too much. Too risky to fall in love, but, damn, Steve was amazing. And Tony had not been in the habit of denying himself the best in the world if he could have it.

But Steve was something different. Tony wasn’t entirely certain that he was even in the same world with someone like Steve.

Now he would have no peace until Steve returned in one piece to the city.

He could always summon a dragon. Jocasta and Jarvis were always ready and willing to help. And Steve could use it.

~~~~~

“Thor needs Steve’s soldiers and weapons more than he needs Steve’s advice,” Clint stated bluntly. He watched with Steve and T’Challa as Hydra raiders swarmed up the rocks below Thor’s hilltop stronghold in the hour after dawn. At least they held the high ground and had been able to fend off the raiders so far. 

“You fight well, King Steven,” Thor proclaimed, thumping Steve solidly on his back. “I am glad to be by your side.”

“We would be better off if I had brought more soldiers with me,” Steve said

Thor frowned. “This is but a diversion, my liege.”

“A diversion?” Steve said. “Hydra appears committed to the fight.”

“Oh, I do not doubt that the Skull would be glad to overrun my garrison. But this is not their aim.” Thor waved at the rocky cliffs above and behind the outpost. “They would not get far from here. Except to the south where your fair city and the rest of your country lies.”

“Ah. I see,” T’Challa agreed. “If we were to throw our army into defending this place, we could be destroyed.”

Clint whistled low. “Gods.”

“They’re attacking again,” Steve announced. He slammed his shield into a raider scrambling over the top of the wall in front of them, dropping the man instantly.

They fought fiercely, shoving the raiders back as soon as they showed their heads. The raiders stopped. Steve, covered in blood, barely had a chance to catch his breath before the next attack. “Is this how it is?”

“All the time!” Thor shouted back. He crushed a raider with his war-hammer and went after another three.

“For the Skull and the glory of Hydra!” a raider declared as he landed in front of Steve.

“Not today,” Steve grunted back. He swung his sword and felled the raider. 

He shaded his eyes and glanced at the sun and shadows. It was nearly midday. They had withstood four waves of invaders since the dawn. Despite the protective magic in his blood, Steve was tiring. As were T’Challa and Clint. Thor and his friends still gleefully went after each and every raider. But Steve’s experienced eyes noticed signs of fatigue in their movements. 

“Dragon!” one of Thor’s friends shouted.

“Dragon! Dragon!” the rest of the Asgardians chanted. 

“There,” Thor said. He pointed to a rapidly approaching object in the air.

Steve had heard of dragons all his life. This was the first one he had seen. And the dragon was magnificent. No stories ever caught the beautiful motion of a dragon’s elegant wings or the undulating movement of scales over powerful muscles. 

The sleek dragon, covered in purple and blue scales, flew rapidly towards them, light blue wings spread wide to steer through the air. Thor motioned for people to step away from the wall and seek shelter. Steve ignored him because he could sense that the dragon had a deliberate aim.

The dragon swooped down and breathed fire across the rocky terrain below the ramparts, triggering a wail of despair from the Hydra raiders. Another fiery pass from the dragon and the raiders broke and ran away like a gust of wind scattering fall leaves.

In shock, Steve watched the dragon fly close by the wall where they all stood. The dragon trained a green eye on Steve, as if studying him. Then flew off from where it came. 

Thor said, “We should rejoice. The Dragonlords still live. And you, King Steve of York, have found favor with them and the dragons of this world.”

Clint and T’Challa exchanged more doubtful looks about this news. “Maybe that’s a good thing, but probably not,” Clint muttered. 

~~~~~

On the way back to the city, Clint told Steve how all the city guards and now some of the knights were bringing their weapons and armor to this blacksmith Tony. “Tony came to Brooklyn a few months ago. And all the city guards are going to him now for repairs. I think we should have him work for us.”

Steve gave a brief thought to poor, overworked George, the Royal Smith. The smith and his workshop had been barely able to keep up with the guards’ needs in better times and it hadn’t gotten any better with the rough times. He could see why his people turned to the hardworking craftsman Tony. Tony was an artisan, a miracle-worker, one of the smartest men Steve had ever met -- to call him anything less would be an insult.

Might not be a bad idea at all to have Tony move into the castle. His secret visits to Tony had become precious, but they weren’t as often as Steve would have preferred. It would be nice to have breakfast with the man and be able to see him at work. “Should we bring him up to the castle?” Steve asked. 

“Well, yeah, of course. I wasn’t thinking of trapezing through the city to have my armor repaired.” Clint shifted his seat. “Anyway, what’d you think of that whole dragon thing?”

Steve had been turning over and over in his mind where the dragon had come from. He’d heard an earful from Pietro about Dragonlords. “It turned up at the right moment.”

“Huh. I don’t have a problem with the Dragonlords -- not like Pietro and some others. No one’s escaped unscathed by Hydra.”

“If a Dragonlord had escaped, they could be an ally,” Steve mused.

“Carol talks a lot about the fighters she met in Hatten. I’d be glad any day to fight alongside them.” Clint frowned. “But I don’t know about the Dragonlords themselves, your majesty. There’s always been something wrong about them -- all the Houses being so high and mighty and snobby. I haven’t heard a good story about a single one.”

“I’m not so ready to write anyone off if they are willing to fight Hydra with us.”

~~~~~

Steve had not been born to be King of York, or king of anything. He had been born to poor townsfolk and raised by his widowed mother. He wasn’t much to consider from the beginning, being small, thin and sickly. Sarah fretted and worried over him as he tried to keep up with all the other boys and came home bruised and winded all the time. 

He grew up a hard worker who stole time to draw on scraps of paper he gathered. He had dreams of making his way to work as a draftsman or a scribe. But he got sick. So sick that his mother scraped money together to pay for his burial and all his friends gathered for his last moments.

In desperation his mother brought him to the good King Erskine of York, who had great fame as an alchemist and doctor. Taking pity on the poor widow and her boy, Erskine gave Steve a magic potion. Steve immediately regained his health. Not only that, he gained muscle, strength, endurance, and an unsurpassed ability to heal fast. 

Knowing he had been blessed with a second chance, he headed off to adventures and travels after his mother passed. He learned to fight, to strategize, and to build armies. He made and lost close friends and partners. He packed lifetimes of experience in a few, short years and became a living legend throughout all the lands.

A messenger from York, his old friend Sam, found him planning yet another expedition to rout bandits from menacing traders along the great northern road from Westchester to Asgardia. The people of York had elected him King to replace the late Erskine. He first thought of saying no. But Sam was very persuasive, reminding him that being King was still serving people and that he could do much good for the people of York.

But Steve had not forgotten his roots as a barefoot boy growing up in a small cottage with a dirt floor. He was easily embarrassed by the extravagant trappings and grandiose nature of the kingship. Today was no different. The work of state had to continue regardless of the war encroaching on all his borders.

He sat ill at ease on his throne with his royal blue robes and a simple gold crown in the castle’s great hall. York was a work-a-day kingdom with a work-a-day king, but there were still traditions and markers of Steve’s status. He listened to a long line of supplicants asking for everything from simple favors easily granted to outrageous boons gently refused. He meted out justice on those who violated the laws of the kingdom.

And finally it came time for Steve to bestow honors and boons. George had been grateful to be relieved as the Royal Blacksmith, and left the city to rejoin his family, already seeking refuge in the western mountains. Steve smiled, ready to offer Tony the job.

The herald called for Tony the Smith to approach the throne. A less than jubilant Tony left the crowd and walked toward Steve. Steve had seen many terrified people over his life, so he could recognize one when he saw it. Tony’s good manners masked the obvious signs. But he walked stiffly, one hand clenched, and his eyes wild and darting. Steve’s heart ached to see Tony in distress. He should not have scared Tony that much by summoning him to the castle. 

“Tony the Smith?” Steve asked.

“I am,” Tony replied, staring at Steve’s feet.

“We wish to name you Royal Smith. Do you accept?”

Relief washed over Tony’s face. His body relaxed and his lips curved into a smile. He bowed low. “I am greatly honored, your majesty. Indeed I accept.”

“You will be given housing in the castle as well as an allowance. Sir Sam will look after you.” Steve nodded at Sam standing to the right of the throne.

~~~~~

Tony cursed under his breath as he rushed ahead of the castle staff to reach his shop. He should have said no. But the large workshop and the idea of having money and respect again prompted him to accept. Sam was supremely efficient at managing castle affairs and already had a number of designated staff ready to move Tony into his new forge and quarters.

What was he going to do with Friday? She was probably poking around the workshop looking for nails and other scrap to hoard. Or stretched out on on Tony’s bed for a morning nap. 

The day before, he had been surprised to receive a royal summons to present himself to the king. Tony had somehow found a decent enough set of clothes for court, although they were far from the quality he had been used to. Although he wouldn’t need good clothes if he was going to end up clamped in irons and sent to Steve’s dungeons because Steve had found out his secret. 

Now his problem was where to send Friday for a couple of days while he settled into his new workshop. Friday squawked at him as he tried to explain that she had to go into hiding. She could be surprisingly stubborn at times. Finally, after some bribery, she heaved herself out the window to take wing over the street and beyond the castle wall. 

Tony would worry about Friday until she came home in a couple of days. House dragons weren’t trained to survive in the wild. And he didn’t want to think of her skulking around the refuse piles of Brooklyn’s taverns or stables.

Sam and his staff arrived shortly after Friday left. Within an hour Tony’s life was packed up and moved into the castle.

That afternoon, as Tony directed the arrangement of the forge and ordered new supplies, he glanced up to see Steve talking to the guards and his knights. The day had been so eventful he hadn’t considered the advantages of his new position. He could now help defend the city directly while keeping an eye on Steve.

He smiled as he bent over to inspect a worktable. He couldn’t complain about that.

~~~~~

Hydra came out of the cold north, or so the stories said. Or maybe from over the sea from unnamed and unmapped lands. In the end all that mattered was that the Skull, their leader, was bound and determined to rule over all the world. And as far as Steve knew, the Skull was winning far more than losing. Steve was gradually being pushed farther and farther away from the remains of the Eastern River, his lines of battle contracting around his castle.

Steve didn’t want a siege. That was a losing bet. But he couldn’t give up the fight against Hydra. He was caught between the hammer and tongs, as his mother would have said.

Today, though, was a winning day.

Another dragon came to their aid, unbidden. This dragon, with gray, white and black scales and spikes, planted itself between Steve’s army and Hydra. It breathed fire and sulphurous smoke at the Hydra warriors each time they made a move towards Steve’s lines. A dozen Hydra raiders had already met their fate at the dragon’s claws. 

Steve, with Jess and Jan at his side, held his breath as he watched the dragon deftly block the enemy army.

“Where do they come from?” Jess asked. 

“Who knows?” Jan answered with a shrug. “They just showed up to conquer the world.”

“I meant the dragons.”

“Oh,” she replied. “I don’t know, but I love them. This one looks especially sharp with that white stripe on its chest and the gray shades on the scales. Your majesty?”

“Thor says it’s the Dragonlords. Or a Dragonlord. He thinks they’re here to help.”

Jan nodded. “Well, I’m not going to look a gift horse -- or dragon -- in the mouth. Hooray for dragons!”

Steve smiled for the first time in days. “Hooray for dragons.”

~~~~~

It was Jan’s idea.

She said that they should celebrate their victory over Hydra, despite Steve’s protests that it was by no means a final victory. Jan smiled at him. “I know that, your majesty. But we’ve had so few triumphs, it would be nice to celebrate when we’ve won.” 

Seated in his place of honor, Steve watched the people who filled the main hall of his castle eat, drink, dance and laugh. He had no idea where Jan found so much food in a time of scarcity or how she managed to decorate the hall in two days. He saw her flit through the crowd wearing her best dress, her hair done up in braids and jewels, laughing and flirting.

Carol sat down next to him and pushed a cup of wine at him. “You could smile a little -- it’d do wonders for you.”

“What would that do for my reputation?” Steve said with a teasing tone in his voice. He was just as happy seeing his people enjoy themselves as he sat quietly.

“I can’t remember the last time we celebrated anything.”

Month, years, ages ago. They had been fighting Hydra for a long time. “You should be out there,” Carol said. 

“So should you.”

“I’ve got plans,” Carol said. 

Steve’s thoughts wandered to when he’d have to call them all together to go out and fight again. He still felt troubled by how easy it had been to drive Hydra back towards the river with the help of a dragon. It didn’t sit right with him. What would happen with no dragon the next time? What would his strategy be if he were invading another country? 

Carol nudged him. “You’re thinking about Hydra, aren’t you?”

Steve nodded. He drank the wine Carol brought him and glanced in the right direction at the right time to see Tony in the dancing crowd. Steve sat up straighter, tracing Tony’s graceful weaving through the dancers and watchers. He’d never seen Tony like this before -- openly enjoying himself among friends. Tony glowed in the torchlight, dazzling in his red doublet trimmed with gold. Probably arranged by Jan, who had taken a shine to Tony.

Steve stared, entranced by Tony’s smiles.

“I see I’ve lost your attention,” Carol observed. “Whether to Hydra or something else, I don’t know.” She smirked. “Will I see you on the practice field in the morning, your majesty?”

“Good night, Carol. Tomorrow before practice -- we’ll take an inventory of our arms. And other supplies.” Weariness hit him hard. So much to do, and so much depended on him performing flawlessly over the next few days. If he failed, he failed everyone. 

“Would it be so bad for you to once set aside your worries and just enjoy yourself?” Carol asked as she stood up.

Steve snorted. “Now you sound like Sam. Go, have fun.”

He watched a laughing Carol join her friend Jess near the dais. Carol rarely had a chance to smile these days and Steve envied her ease. He glanced over at Tony, clearly not at a loss for partners as he escorted Jan to the floor.

With a sigh, he pushed back from the table and stood up. He nodded to the guard. He’d have to explain his absence to Jan once she finished her dance.

“Going to bed so early?” Jan said, frowning at Steve. “But we’re just getting started.”

“Work,” Steve offered for an excuse. “Once this is all over -- we’ll have more nights like this.”

“And I’ll expect you to dance every night,” Jan replied. “Good night, your majesty.”

Steve nodded to Tony and headed out into crisp night. He knew that Tony was following. He didn’t need to glance backwards to confirm it. He kept walking through the courtyard, heading towards Tony’s workshop.

Tony caught up to him. “Where are you going?”

Steve stopped. He ran his hand through his hair. He had an outline of a plan when he left the hall. But whatever confidence he might have had disappeared in the flickering torchlights of the courtyard and the cool night air. And Tony’s beautiful blue eyes. “Um. Your workshop?”

Tony laughed, setting him at ease immediately. “Good idea.”

Once safely inside the workshop, Steve tensed up. This was a bad idea. He should be preparing for the war that was coming, not standing in Tony’s workshop wondering if maybe, possibly, Tony found him just a little bit special. Special enough to kiss. He had no idea that he was holding his breath until Tony gently took his hand and squeezed it.

“I don’t think that this is just an inspection of my forge, your majesty,” Tony said. 

Steve swallowed. “You’re beautiful when you dance,” he stammered out. “I didn’t know you could dance.” He wished for once, just once, he could not be painfully awkward. He’d been friends with Tony for a few months. They spent hours together. He felt that he could trust Tony. But open mouth, insert foot.

Tony drew closer. “Is that all? I noticed you didn’t dance.” He put Steve’s hand on his waist. 

Steve could feel Tony’s breath warm on his skin. His thumb brushed back and forth on Tony’s hip. “I never learned,” he confessed. 

“They didn’t send you to King School, did they?”

“That’s where they teach you dancing?”

“And flirting and diplomacy and how to dress, among other things.”

Just standing there hearing Tony talk, his body warm under his hands, was intoxicating. Steve couldn’t have asked for more. “Oh?”

Tony ran a finger down Steve’s blue doublet. “At least you have Jan making sure that you dress like a king should. You never came to my forge like this.”

Steve ducked his head and laughed. “No. But I only wear my king clothes for state events.”

He was mesmerized by Tony’s blue eyes so close to his own. He lifted Tony’s chin with both hands and brushed Tony’s lips with his thumb. Tony closed his eyes and leaned into Steve’s touch. Steve felt his heart throb as the world and time slowed down to this forever perfect moment. 

“Are you going to kiss me or contemplate the mysteries of the universe?” Tony said. He’d opened his eyes again. 

“Mysteries of the universe are hard to pass up,” Steve said. 

Tony snorted and leaned like he was going to kiss Steve. Steve held his breath as Tony kissed him. He savored the press of Tony’s lips on his. He put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “There, I think we solved one mystery of the universe.”

“Oh? Which one?” 

Tony rested his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “What type of kisser the King of York is.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at Tony. “That’s a mystery?”

“The only one I care about. The only one that matters right now.” Tony kissed Steve again. “Hmmm, I might even venture to say that Steve is a better kisser than the King of York.”

Tugging Tony close, Steve trailed his fingers down the sinuous curve of Tony’s strong back. He thrilled at the catch in Tony’s breath when he cupped Tony’s round ass and squeezed. A few more kisses here and there and Steve was drowning in Tony’s eyes, breath and the warmth of his hands. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched like this and by someone who didn’t care if he was the King of York, only that he was Steve.

He tried to work Tony out of his clothes, his fingers suddenly clumsy and awkward from nerves and desperation. Tony pressed a smile into his neck. He whispered into Steve’s ear. “Let me. I’m the one who’s supposed to be clever with my hands.”

Tony took his time finding and undoing the laces and fastenings of Steve’s doublet and underclothes. Steve relaxed under Tony’s gentle work, letting him caress and kiss his way over his body. Nothing was in his mind but Tony.

“Time for bed,” Tony said, slipping Steve’s now open doublet off his shoulders. He lifted Steve’s hand to kiss each knuckle in turn.

“You sure about that?” Steve joked.

“If you are,” Tony replied seductively, his eyes sweeping over Steve from head to toe. He unlaced his own clothes, slowly taking off each layer to reveal beautiful skin inch by inch.

Steve watched mesmerized, shivers running down his back. He ached for Tony and burned as he watched Tony pull his tights down his hip. He stared at the olive skin and sharp hipbones, his mouth watering. He could kiss Tony right there. Or there, where the freckle was on his shoulder. Or there or there. Everywhere. He was desperate to kiss Tony everywhere.

Tony laughed knowingly and pulled Steve to him. “I’m always yours, tonight.”

“Let’s make the most of it,” Steve said. He dropped on the bed, grabbing Tony down with him.

Later, much later, as Steve, spent and satiated, drifted off to sleep with his arms around Tony, he thought he heard a hoot or a whistle from something that might be an animal from the vicinity of the forge. “Um, Tony? What’s that?”

Tony shifted closer to Steve. “Mmmm, what?”

“I thought I heard an animal.”

“Probably the stables. I hear the horses all the time when I’m working.”

It didn’t sound like a horse, Steve thought. But he didn’t hear the noise again. 

~~~~~

Steve, Carol and T’Challa stood on the city wall watching the dark smudge of the invading Hydra army as the sun rose over the fields. Steve fervently hoped that he was not seeing a Hydra army on the march to Brooklyn.

“This is how they come,” T’Challa said quietly. He leaned forward trying to see more.

Steve’s mind raced. He knew where he had deployed his knights and counted up all his troops. “Clint and Jan -- if Hydra is on the march, where are they?”

Carol snapped into action. “I’ll find them. We’re not going down without a fight.”

T’Challa turned to Steve. “Or we could lose all if we are over-rash.”

Steve nodded. “We can’t be forced into a siege.” Sam would need to evacuate the refugees not protected by the city walls. A fear sprang up that they had lost Jan and Clint to the Hydra invasion. They would be cut off from Thor and his soldiers in the north. He couldn’t lose Carol. Could Sam handle moving the townspeople too?

He could use a dragon right now.

“I’ll be in the Council Room. Report back if you find any change out there,” Steve said.

As he passed through the courtyard, he saw Tony hard at work at the forge. His heart clenched to think of Tony in danger. He could try to talk Tony into leaving before a siege if it came to that. He guessed that Tony would not go willingly.

Steve longed to go into the forge. He could send for a servant to bring them dinner. But he had a long night ahead of him as he worked out a strategy and plans and he waited for Carol’s return. Duty always first before love.

~~~~~

Steve had sent Clint, Jan, and Jess out to hold the river and defend the main road as best they could. Pacing back and forth in the council room and stealing glances out the window, Carol begged to go. “I need to be out there, they don’t have a chance without me.”

He looked up from his maps. “I need you to save them when Hydra overwhelms our troops.”

Carol took a deep breath. “That doesn’t sound too optimistic, your majesty.” 

“I’m being realistic.” Steve huffed. Any solution he devised still had its cost. “They will try their best. Any delay we can win can only help us. Sam can use anytime we can get him to lay in supplies and evacuate civilians.”

“And if we lose Clint, Jan and Jess?”

“I trust in their talent and training,” Steve stated. “I believe in everyone’s ability to handle whatever Hydra will be throwing at us. We’re the last line against Hydra. If we don’t hold, then Hydra rules us all. We owe it to those depending on us to kept them and their world safe.”

Carol nodded. “I agree, Steve, but I can see how it all can go to hell quickly.”

“We’ll work hard to see that it won’t.”

Hydra raiders and troops swarmed over the Eastern River and invaded the farms and villages of the river lands. Jess arrived first at the castle with the terrible news. Steve allowed Carol and Jess to run a rescue mission to save Jan and Clint and any of the remaining river troops.

The results of the invasion were grim. To the north, Thor had been utterly cut off from Brooklyn. Every day brought worse news as Steve watched the dark rolling waves of invaders coming closer to his castle.

T’Challa was right. This was how Hydra invaded. This was how he would spend his last days.

Steve spent all his days and nights in his council room, going over strategies and tactics and numbers until he fell asleep at his table over his precious maps. Any dreams of peace proved fleeting as the nightmares multiplied in his fitful and unrestful sleep.

Tony came to him, the night before the siege started, when he had sent his knights off to sleep or to do an all-night watch. He brought a tray of food and some designs to reinforce the main city gate. “I have ideas for the walls, too.”

Weary, Steve looked up from his maps and smiled at Tony. “Nice to see you too, Tony.” He reached for an apple. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tony replied with a shrug. “I have a ton of armor to fix. But I could spare a few minutes for dinner with my most favorite King.”

“I can’t promise I’ll be good company.”

“Neither can I, but at least we can be bad company together.”

~~~~~

Steve and his knights found Hydra camped in the fields around the city the next day. He sent out Carol and T’Challa in a desperate attempt to stop the hordes from encircling the city. But even with their best efforts, they weren’t able to prevent the Hydra army from tightening their deadly noose around the city walls. Bruised and battered, Carol flinched when she reported how her attacks had failed, refusing to listen to Steve’s reminder that he had asked the impossible of her and she had done her best.

The only silver lining they had was that Sam had evacuated the majority of the civilians and refugees from the city. The city, nearly empty except for Steve’s knights and soldiers, made Steve’s skin crawl. Riding past the closed up houses and shops eerily brought to mind past summers full of the bustle of the markets under warm blue skies and the noise of happy people and music floating on sweet breezes in the evenings. Reminded him of all that he was fighting for. 

And now there was Tony. His Tony even.

T’Challa joined him and Sam in one of the towers on the city wall as Steve studied the Hydra army. “What now, your majesty?”

“We have food enough to last two weeks but we need to worry about water. The city wells and cisterns might not last as long,” Sam warned.

“We defend and we fight,” Steve said.

So they fought off every attack Hydra could throw at them for five days. Steve barely slept and ate on the front lines. He woke early, encouraged his soldiers, gave battle directions to his knights, fought by their side, and went to bed late. He grimaced when he saw blood run on the city walls and the wounded carted off, knowing that his army could ill afford any loss. And he hated that good women and men had to die because of Hydra’s evil.

He trusted his knights, each one fighting as hard as they could. Carol rushed about to plug holes and shore up weakening defences. Jan and Clint harassed the Hydra armies below with arrows, bolts and anything they could get their hands on. T’Challa, Wanda, Pietro and Jess with all their might held their positions on the wall.

Covered in dirt and blood, Steve fought the invaders savagely. He knew realistically he had too few soldiers, his knights were exhausted from weeks of fighting and Hydra was unrelenting. But he clung to hope.

Carol leaned against a tower wall. She took off her helmet and brushed back the hair out of her eyes. “They keep coming,” she said. “Sam’s been holding back the beer for a better day. I don’t know how long the food and water will last.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll pull through.”

“On sheer guts? On hope? On desperation?” She wiped sweat off her neck and face. 

“All of the above. It will be hard and we’re living through dark times but we’ll fight our way through. Hydra can’t outlast us.”

Carol laughed grimly and shook her head. “You’re a born optimist, your majesty.”

“One of us has to be,” he said with a smile.

~~~~~

Tony stepped back from the armor he’d made for Steve. A few swipes of the polishing rag and the armor shone in the morning light. The only regret he had was that he couldn’t have added more engraved decorations to the armor to mark it as the king’s armor. But Steve made it clear that he was perfectly happy with plain armor. Tony indulged himself with a star. Add a tunic with Steve’s red, white and blue heraldry and Steve would shine as the King of York on the battlefield.

He sat down and waited for Steve and his entourage to come to the forge. Tony had some surprises waiting for them. He had been working on weapons to repel Hydra soldiers from scaling the walls for one thing. Sipping his morning ration of water, Tony sketched out ideas for reinforced protections for the walls. 

Despite the terrible situation with the siege, Tony enjoyed the peace of the morning. He could hear Steve going over the day’s plans with his knights. No bad news from last night. Tony took every bit of good news as a sign that they would all survive the siege. 

He could hear Steve approaching because of the heated argument among Clint, Jan and Pietro. Hot-headed Pietro wanted to ride out and attack Hydra head on. Everyone else was arguing against it. Tony had heard all the arguments backwards and forwards since the siege started.

He could be doing more to defend his adopted country. He should be doing more.

“Tony,” Steve said by way of greeting. He flashed a shy smile at Tony before turning all business. “You have something for us.”

As Tony demonstrated an updated crossbow, he noticed an agitated Pietro shifting back and forth on his feet. He put the crossbow down on a table and went to unveil the armor he designed for Steve. “This is for the King --”

“I’ve heard that accent before,” Pietro interrupted. “You’re not from around here.”

“He’s a refugee,” Steve offered. He inspected the armor carefully. “A bit shiny.” He ran a finger over the chest plate and over the embossed star. “But beautiful and serviceable.”

“Serviceable?” Tony snorted. “Let me tell you what this armor can do --”

“That’s it. I know the accent,” Pietro declared. “You’re from Hatten, aren’t you?” Pietro stepped closer to a horrified Tony, who stepped back from him . “And what’s worse, I think you’re a Dragonlord. I used to run a trade caravan from Westchester to Hatten. I know your kind,” he sneered. 

Tony pulled his wits together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But his heart beat furiously as an icy chill ran down his back.

“You know, the traitors who sold us out.” Pietro turned to Clint, Jan and Steve, who were all staring at Tony. “I told you -- the Dragonlords sold arms and supplies to Hydra. They betrayed everyone in Hatten. I was there! I saw what happened! They acted so high and mighty and turned up their noses to everyone. But they all sure rolled over when Hydra and their gold came knocking.”

“I had nothing to do with that,” Tony said. 

Pietro laughed bitterly. “That’s what I suspect a Dragonlord would say.”

“Pietro, Tony has been working just as hard as he can to defeat Hydra. If he were a Dragonlord as you think and did what you accuse them of, then he wouldn’t be fighting in his own way at our side,” Steve said. He nodded encouragingly towards Tony.

“Well, since that’s over,” Tony said, rubbing his hands together. “Let me show you how this breastplate works.”

“Wait, I’m not done here,” Pietro said. “You talk like them, walk like them, even wear your clothes like them. I’ve only seen beards like that on Dragonlords.”

“You should let it go, Pietro,” Steve urged. “I believe Tony when he says he isn’t a Dragonlord.”

Waving Steve and the other over, Tony pointed to the sides of the chest plate. He was particularly proud of how he fashioned the clever clasps that held the armor together. 

He could hear rattling from the small room to the side of the forge. He stored tools and small clock contraptions there. All that separated the room from the main workshop was a shoddy door that Tony intended to fix any day now. It was also where Friday hid when he had visitors. He hoped that she wasn’t getting restless or hungry. 

After showing Steve the armor, he went to demonstrate the firing mechanism on a crossbow. The bowstring snapped and broke. Tony cursed his stung fingers.

And watched as Friday burst out of the storeroom and flapped excitedly around the forge. She head-butted a startled Jan, flew in circles around Clint, and snapped at Pietro. Chirping, she settled down at Steve’s feet and craned her neck to get a better view of Steve. He hesitantly reached to pat her head, and she rubbed her head and neck on his leg.

“Not a Dragonlord, right?” Clint asked. “Or maybe we’re just imagining that we’re seeing a small gold dragon right here in front of us.”

Crushed, Tony hung his head. “In my past life, I was a Dragonlord -- Tony of Stark Peak. But that doesn’t change anything -- I want to defeat Hydra as much as you all do.”

Steve sighed deeply. “Tony, why didn’t you tell us?” 

Tony heard the unspoken ‘me’ at the end of the question and feared that Steve, honorable, upright Steve, would not forgive Tony’s deceit. 

“Easier to blend in with the rest of the refugees.”

“Or betray us to Hydra,” Pietro said. “Make friends here and then open the gate at night to the enemy when we’re all asleep. He’s just biding his time or waiting to negotiate a higher price for his villainy.”

“Pietro. Stop.” Steve pinched his nose and looked down at the floor, where the small gold dragon lay at his feet, whistling at him. 

“He’s not entirely wrong, your majesty,” Clint said. “We’ve heard rumors of what the dragonlords did. We all heard how the Dragonlords could have stopped Hydra and didn’t. What did you do, Tony, did you even try? Or did you talk a good game and go along like all the rest of them? ”

“I tried,” Tony said coldly. “More than you could possibly know.”

“Tony, please,” Steve warned. 

Pietro shrugged. “I don’t care. He’s as bad as the rest of them. He’s lied since he got here and lied to our King, who trusts everyone too easily. You played Steve, Tony.”

“This is not helping,” Jan piped in. 

“I had to survive,” Tony explained. “None of you have any idea how bad it is now where Hydra rules.” He shook his head. Hard to reason with people who won’t listen. “No one and no place would take me in if I told them the truth.”

“Going to run now?” Pietro taunted. “Going to desert us in our moment of need, like you abandoned the people of Hatten?”

Tony looked at Steve, stricken and drawn. Steve dropped his eyes. 

“Jan, find Sam. Tell him to put a guard or two on the workshop,” Steve said. He headed to the door.

“What -- am I under arrest?” Tony snapped.

Looking old and tired, Steve put his hand on the doorframe. “No, it’s to protect you. Once the word is out that you’re a Dragonlord …. You’ve heard the stories. I can’t have the forge burnt down.”

Tony nodded grimly. He knew what Steve meant. He watched Steve and his knights walk out the door back to the fight. He drew in a deep breath. Well, that could have gone better.

Friday butted his hand and growled. 

“No, Friday, I don’t think he’ll be back. Not tonight, and probably not ever.”

~~~~~

Steve couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t slept well since they first saw Hydra marching on the city. But tonight was different. He had to find a way out of the siege. They were taking too much damage and the city springs were running dry. 

He got out of bed and paced around the room in his sleeping tunic trying to clear his mind. He walked over to the large windows that overlooked the courtyard. Sitting down on the window seat, he could look out over his city and see the flickering lights of the Hydra camp beyond.

How much time did they really have? Carol and Sam had been grim when they reported on the food and water supplies. The city wells were holding up for now. But the food would run out soon. Tempers were running high and Sam and Carol had their hands full breaking up fights and keeping the peace.

Running his hand through his hair, all Steve could think about was the safety of his people. If they held on to the bitter end, they would lose the war. If they rode out and took on Hydra, they could lose as well. 

Steve had not felt so completely alone in years. 

He looked over the courtyard and saw a light shining from Tony’s workshop and the guard on watch outside. He smiled slightly, realizing that even after all that happened, Tony still worked on ways to defeat Hydra. He couldn’t blame Tony for hiding that he was a Dragonlord from everyone. Not after Pietro’s attack and accusations. 

But now, he had no certainty that he could trust Tony. His gut told him to be wary. Pietro was right -- he did trust too easily and quickly. Although he couldn’t imagine acting otherwise. If being King truly meant that he had to turn on friends when they became politically dangerous, he didn’t want to be king on those terms. 

Maybe Tony didn’t return his feelings, maybe it was all an act to survive. Steve could maybe live with that. But he couldn’t live with turning his back on Tony, who had risked so much to help them.

At this rate, Steve was not going to get any sleep. He decided to get dressed. He’d work the rest of the night in his war room. He needed maps and information and numbers. 

When he reached the first floor of the castle, he headed to the war room. Although he swore that a part of him split off and went to the forge to spend the evening listening to Tony talk and tinker. To show Tony that he cared, more than cared about him. To share a bed, holding Tony asleep in his arms, knowing that they were safe together for one night. To forget everything he had found out about Tony and to drown oblivious in Tony’s blue eyes.

He should be worried that Tony was a plant sent to betray him. Tony had lied to everyone. But he couldn’t forget the jokes and stories Tony told or the feel of his soft, dark hair between Steve’s fingers. He couldn’t give up any of that. He could have his heart broken in the end. He’d risk that for a few moments with Tony, who now was like the air and sun to him.

He knew how he was going to break the siege and save his country. But that could mean that he would never get to see Tony again. Not in this life.

~~~~~

Tony holed up in his workshop after his secret was revealed. He had gone out after Pietro’s accusations, putting on a brave front. But people who had been friendly the day before could not look him in the eye and even walked away from him. The soldiers came for their arms but said nothing to him. 

“At least they’re not spitting at me,” he said to Friday as she assisted his welding. 

Worse, though, was hearing Pietro spread rumors about how he had seduced Steve to overthrow the kingdom. Even though the guard could stop Pietro from physically harassing him, she couldn’t keep him away all the time. Tony heard the stories all day while he toiled away and each time it got worse.

A guard came for Tony to summon him to the King’s War Room.

“Do you know why I’ve been summoned?”

“The King wants all his knights and advisors there.”

Well, it sounded like Steve didn’t intend to throw him in the dungeon. Tony replied, “I will be there.”

~~~~~

Steve called his knights, his councilors, and Tony to his war room. As they gathered, Steve could sense their fear, worry, and misery. Another week of siege and they would break like dry twigs underfoot. He owed them everything, even his life. And now he was going to ask them to sacrifice everything on the hope of overthrowing their enemy.

“Why is he here?” Pietro sneered. 

“Because he wants to defeat Hydra as much as we do,” Steve replied. “As much as anyone in this room.”

Clint sighed. “How do we know that? You know that the Dragonlords didn’t put up much of fight when Hydra came knocking, instead they sold out to the scum.”

“I don’t know that. It’s always been stories and rumors. I trust Tony and he has not let me down yet. But, people, let’s stick to the matter at hand.”

Steve paced back and forth in front of his knights. He stopped. 

“We are here to defend the helpless, the refugees, our citizens, our countries. Hydra will stop at nothing to stop us. And if we lose, our countrymen and women will be the ones that suffer. They will be burnt out of their homes, starved and ruined and enslaved by Skull and Hydra.”

He looked each knight, Sam and Tony in the eye. “Each and every one of us has been given the abilities and gifts to protect them. All of us regardless of where we have come from has done their best to save our world. We will do our best even to the last drop of blood.”

“What is the plan, your majesty?” Carol asked.

“We ride out at dawn and do everything that we can to drive Hydra back to the Eastern River.” The gathered knights nodded grimly. “Now, let’s talk about how we are going to beat Hydra.”

At the end of the meeting, Steve sent them out to get ready for the morning. He watched Tony talk to Carol, Jan, T’Challa and Clint about his new weapons. He was glad that at least some of his knights had accepted Tony after all.

“And what about me?” Sam asked.

Steve nodded at his close friend. “There is no one I trust more to take over for me if it comes to that.”

“It won’t, Steve.”

“We can hope,” he replied.

~~~~~

Those who survived that day would tell their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren about the morning ride of Great King Steven and his knights against Hydra until the stories became legends and songs and myths. They would talk of how the city gates swung open in the early dawn and Steve rode out on his white steed, wearing the ancient winged crown of the Kings and Queens of York, gleaming in armor of silver and clothes of red, white and blue, his broadsword on his hip and his shield with the white star and bands of red and blue. How the famous Knight Errant Carol of York, his right-hand woman, clad in the colors of her family, and T’Challa, the exiled king in his traditional armor, rode on his left. How Sir Clint and Sir Jan, true knights of the country and ready to fight any comers, rode to battle on his right.

Steve, his knights and his soldiers rode to defeat Hydra. They rode to defend his country. They rode to save the world.

The tales told of how Steve’s first attack cut through the Hydra lines. Steve fought all morning long to push back the Hydra soldiers. They were winning until they slammed against the hardened elite Hydra troops. The tide turned against Steve badly as the Skull rallied his troops

The tales did not mention Dragonlord Tony of Stark Peak, left behind in the empty city.

Tony knew he needed to be on the field with Steve and his army. He watched Steve get ready for the battle and ride out. Steve had barely glanced at Tony but he had left a letter behind for him, slipped under his door before he left.

The letter was plain and direct, like the author. ‘I plan to attack Hydra today and do not expect to be back. You have made me happier than I ever have been. Think of me fondly.’

Damning Steve under his breath, Tony folded the letter and tucked it away in the small gold filigree box where he kept the Dragonlord necklace. He was not a trained warrior and he’d be in terrible danger because he couldn’t fight on the field. He slid the necklace between his fingers, calculating a plan.

He went back to the forge and uncovered a small pile of armor in the corner. The armor he built for himself as a model for the other armor. He had painted it red and gold as a reminder of his past life. He put on the necklace and donned the armor.

He found a horse and headed off to battle. If Steve could fight, so could he. In a different way of course. His way. 

Once on the field, it didn’t go the way Tony expected. He needed a safe, high spot to summon a dragon to the field. He couldn’t do the summoning from the city and risk an angry dragon razing the place. He waded into the fierce battle, knocking back Hydra soldiers as he headed towards a small hill beyond the armies.

He saw Steve ahead of him. Steve was on his feet, fighting hand-to-hand with the Skull’s bodyguard. Tony fended off attacks right and left. Until he was felled by a hard blow to his back.

As Tony recovered his breath, he watched Steve fight his way through to Tony. He believed in Steve. He believed in Steve as much as he trusted the feel of metal in his hand or the solid ground beneath his feet. 

Steve handily dispatched the Hydra soldiers surrounding Tony. He helped Tony to his feet. “Your desire to fight is noble, Tony. But you’re risking everything by coming here.”

“I can fight,” Tony stated firmly. “I am here to fight beside my king.”

Steve smiled grimly. “Then we fight.”

Tony followed Steve until he found a path through the melee to his chosen summoning spot. Once free, he planted his feet on the ground, took off his helmet and took a deep breath. He was ready to call a dragon. 

Softly chanting the traditional calls, he sent his thoughts towards any dragon he could find. He could feel a dozen dragons out there. Then he sensed the thoughts of an ancient power out there, ready to answer his desperate plea for help. He smiled in relief as the dragon answered his call. 

How long it would take for the dragon to arrive he had no idea. He read far-off snowy mountains, deep valleys, and quiet caves in the dragon’s answer. He closed his eyes to focus on searching for the raspy voice he felt. He heard the cries of shock and dismay before he saw the dragon. 

He had never seen a dragon like this one. No one had ever seen a dragon like this in a hundred, no, five hundred years. 

Tony’s desperate call to a dragon, any dragon, had summoned this ancient behemoth from his cave deep in the Hatten Mountains where he slept on a hoard of gold from a hundred kingdoms long reduced to dust. He came at the call of Tony of Stark Peak and used magic to speed his journey.

The dragon, his red scales tipped with gold, roared about the battlefield. His massive iridescent wings slashed the through the air as his tail furled and unfurled. He hovered above Tony. Tony called him the Iron Dragon, a shadow of the dragon’s noble name unpronounceable by humans.

Tony almost laughed from the sheer absurdity of such a dragon rising to his call. He was a born Dragonlord with all the talent his family ever possessed. Now he proved it on a foreign field in the heat of battle when he was frantically trying to save his home, his friends and his king. Closing his eyes, he reached for the dragon. He knew that when he opened his eyes, the dragon would be there.

Iron Dragon landed and bent his powerful neck to Tony. Tony put an hand on the smooth red scales and looked up into the golden eye of the dragon. He guessed that the dragon was amused. But the dragon deigned to let Tony ride him. 

A stray thought hit Tony as he scrambled up the dragon’s shoulder that he should have designed better armor for riding dragons. He had managed to take the armor off his legs and ass before sitting down. 

“Now, let’s make ’em run,” Tony said to his new friend.

From his height above the battlefield he could see Steve leading his valiant army forward, driving Hydra soldiers away from the city. Steve, in his armor, shone bright under the sun as he rallied his knights to his sword. Iron Dragon joined the battle, dealing death from the sky with tooth and claw and scorching fire. 

Then the Skull and his bodyguard rushed Steve, unseating him from his horse. On foot Steve fought a desperate battle against the Skull, who had power and skill. They parried back and forth, Skull drawing first blood on Steve. Tony circled overhead and urged Iron Dragon to aim fire at the Skull. But Steve hit the Skull harder and harder, until at last the Skull fell under Steve’s sword.

The Hydra army broke ranks and fled to the East River and beyond as Steve’s knights harassed and pursued them. Relieved at the hard-fought victory unfolding below, Tony flew over the battlefield to encourage any lingering Hydra soldier or raider to follow the rest. The battlefield was full of chaos and fire and smoke and he had lost sight of Steve after the Skull fell.

They had won the day. But at what cost?

~~~~~

Tony slid from his perch on Iron Dragon. He wished he had his dragon-riding gear given how the rough scales ripped his trousers and scraped his skin. He patted the dragon’s leg. “See you later, big guy.”

Iron Dragon snorted as he pawed at the ground. He settled down for a snooze in the afternoon sun. Tony was tempted to lie down as well and rest against the dragon’s warm belly. Exhausted and sore, he knew he should go and find Steve wherever he had gone after the Red Skull fell. He smiled, thinking of how happy Steve must be now that they had won the day.

He walked back to the city walls, picking his way through the debris and the fight. Clint was overseeing the cleanup. “Where is the king?” Tony asked.

Clint’s face fell. “He’s back in the city.”

“Thanks!” Tony said cheerfully and ignored Clint’s call to stop as he walked away.

He was surprised to find the citizens somber as they went about their business. Odd, given that the siege was now lifted. He figured that Steve had to be in the castle, maybe talking with his captains about the battle or having a well-deserved meal and rest. He wondered if Steve would be eating with his people or in his quarters. Tony had long imagined that Steve’s rooms were spare of decoration. If he was lucky, and he expected to be, he’d finally see if he was right.

Tony found the castle’s gates wide open and knights and soldiers milling about. Notably, Carol was inspecting wagons and horses with some of her soldiers. “Carol, I was hoping to find King Steven – is he about?”

The soldiers looked at Carol, who bit her lip. “You haven’t heard, Tony? But then you’ve been gone since the battle.”

“Dragons, you know. They have to eat,” Tony offered. “Took longer than I expected.” Carol seemed rather sad for someone who just won a battle.

“Take Tony to Jan. She’ll take it from there,” Carol directed one of her soldiers.

“I could find him on my own. Just point me in the right direction –“

“Take him to Jan,” Carol repeated to the soldier. She squeezed Tony’s shoulder rather hard. “We’ll catch up later, Tony. I’d like to hear more about your dragons.”

Tony followed the taciturn soldier through doors and up stairs. Jan and a number of people were gathered in a small room. Tony recognized Wanda and a man who called himself Doctor Strange who were arguing over something. “Jan, I’m here to see Steve, um, the king.”

Jan sighed. “Are you sure, Tony?”

“Why? What’s wrong? Isn’t he around here somewhere?” Tony asked.

Jan’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. “No one told you, didn’t they, Tony?” She put her hand on Tony’s arm. “Oh dear, follow me.”

She opened a heavy wood door, revealing a large room. It seemed comfortable enough with wall hangings, a large table covered with maps and papers, a couple of chairs, bookcases and chests. Tony noticed a glass window overlooking the fields around the city. “Over here,” Jan beckoned.

The other part of the room was dominated by a huge bed with embroidered bed curtains closed tightly. His heart clenched when he saw Steve’s shield leaning against the wall, the usual vibrant colors dull in the low light. Jan pulled a bed curtain open. “We don’t know what’s wrong. Bruce found a small puncture wound and says that Steve was felled with a poison dart. Wanda thinks it was magic. They’ve all been working to save him. But there’s been no response.”

Tony’s blood ran cold as he saw Steve laid out in his bed. Someone had washed and dressed him since the battle. His lips were blue and face pale, and Tony held his breath until he saw the slight rise of Steve’s chest. “He lives.”

Jan leaned into him, putting her arm around his shoulders as best she could. “Barely. We found him on the field like that and there’s been no change since.”

“And Bruce?”

“Like I said, he’s tried all his medicine. Wanda’s spells have done nothing – she and that Doctor Strange have tried.”

Tony shook off Jan’s arm and grabbed a chair. He would wait until Steve woke up, as long as it took. He couldn’t imagine a world so unfair that someone as noble as Steve would not live to see his country free of its enemies. He sank into the chair. 

“Come on, Tony, let him be,” Jan urged.

“I’m staying,” Tony said. 

He sat for an hour, studying Steve asleep. Strange how young Steve looked, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes erased. Tony brushed back the stray blond locks that kept falling across Steve’s face. Not that Steve moved, except for the shallow breathing that threatened to stop at any moment. He remembered all too well the last and only time he ever saw Steve like this, in the early morning light of his small bedroom in his shop. When he and Steve had all the time in the world ahead of them if they only could defeat Hydra. When Steve’s eyes were full of love and he laughed at Tony’s awful jokes.

No one stopped Friday from creeping into the room. At first Tony didn’t see her, only noticing when he heard sad chirps near his feet. He briefly wondered if she had eaten recently or if anyone had cared for her. A few head butts and he got the message that she was fine but worried for him. And Steve.

Tony racked his brain thinking of anything he had ever read or learned about supposed magical comas. He hated magic, hated the study of it and had no idea what to look for. He reached out to hold Steve’s large hand. Not as warm as the last time he had a chance to hold it. It felt cold and clammy against Tony’s own hand. 

Jan, Carol and Sam joined him in his vigil. Finally, Jan said, “Tony, let’s get something to eat.”

“No, go on without me,” he said.

“We’re not saying you can’t come back,” Carol said. “Get food and drink in you and then you can return.” She nudged him.

Looking back, Tony had no idea why he did what he did next. He stood, leaned over, and kissed Steve on the lips. Just a light buss on his lips. He stepped back and waited. For what, he didn’t know. But nothing happened. His shoulders slumped and Friday rubbed against his leg and bleated in sympathy.

Then Sam gasped, and Tony’s head swung around. “Steve? Steve!” he called.

The closed eyes slitted open, then blinked and opened wider. Steve looked out at the gaping, astonished faces of everyone surrounding him.

“What--? What happened?” he asked.

Tony chuckled at Steve’s bewildered look, even as tears of mingled joy and relief sprang to his own eyes. 

“Oh, thank all the gods,” he said.

~~~~~

They all celebrated for a couple of days, then the hard work of recovery began. 

Tony spent his days gathering broken arms and armor and metal scrap from the battlefield and forging new farming plows and tools. He spent his nights basking in the warmth of Steve’s smile and bed. Sometimes they talked long into the night or sat in front of the fire saying nothing at all except for Steve’s fingers running through Tony’s hair as Tony laid his head on Steve’s shoulder and a snoring Friday stretched across both their feet.

He had no idea what to do with blissful living and he found himself restless during the day, as if waiting for something or someone. Tony could tell Steve was no better off -- like Steve needed permission from a higher power to be happy. But for now, he tried to not question his feelings or Steve’s.

T’Challa was the first to leave, eager to return to far-off Wakanda, hoping to find his country free from Hydra or any enemy. Usually reluctant regarding his royal duties, Steve willingly hosted a royal dinner and celebration in his honor. He toasted T’Challa and pledged to come to his aid should T’Challa need him or his knights. 

“I wish you better and better days, King Steven. It was an honor to serve a man of honor and skill such as yourself,” T’Challa said when he parted. 

Steve did the same for Thor and his people when Thor announced that he would return to Asgardia. Tony, by Steve’s side, watched from the city walls the exodus of refugees filled with hope and a desire to rebuild. Tony wondered if he should be going with them. He longed for news of his friends in Park. 

Or perhaps he should stay like the number of refugees who decided to call York home. Tony did not have anything to return to like T’Challa or Thor. The mansions and aeries were long burnt into ash and the Dragonlords had fallen so far that none could return to their past glories or stature. Here in York he had found a brightly shining future and a way forward with Steve.

And by everything that was right and good in the world, he loved Steve. 

Tony never wanted to see that terrible haunted look in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes or that weariness that had eaten him up into nothingness. He treasured every smile, bit of laughter, and that ease that Steve had in their private quarters. Even when Clint made jokes about Steve needing to make an honest man out of Tony and the tips of Steve’s ears turned red.

Steve returned to their quarters late one night. Tony sat in front of the fire tinkering with a toy, Friday as usual laying across his feet. He sat down heavily in his customary seat and set down a couple of books and papers. “You’re later than usual,” Tony said cheerfully.

“Carol returned with messengers.” 

Tony set down his little toy. Steve was staring at the fire, as distant as the moon. “Any news?”

Steve stirred out of his thoughts. He bent over to pull a letter out of the one of the books and handed it over to Tony. “For you. Your friend James gave this to Carol to give to you.”

“Rhodey’s alive? Is he okay? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Carol only returned a short time ago.”

Tony snatched the letter from of Steve’s hands. He smiled broadly. “He’s returned to Park -- he escaped to a hidden valley in the mountains when Hydra overran the city. It’s a miracle!” Friday stood on her rear legs to examine the letter. Tony patted her head. “You remember Rhodey? He’s the one with the treats.”

He turned back to the letter. “And Pepper and Happy too! And the people who worked for me -- nearly everyone made it.” 

“I’m very happy for you,” Steve said. 

“Rhodey is the greatest.” He began to plot out how long it would take him to get to Park. Iron Dragon would be the best bet, assuming he could be persuaded to fly that distance.

Tony read the letter to Steve. “I’d given up hope of seeing Rhodey again when I fled Park all those months ago.” Heart full of joy, he told Steve stories long into the night about his friends back in Hatten and Park until he couldn’t stop yawning or keep his eyes open.

In the morning, Friday hopped on the bed and butted against a sleepy Tony’s thigh. Tony muttered darkly about dragons and breakfast as he nudged Friday over. He snuggled into the sheets and a very warm Steve. 

“Tony, I think your dragon is hungry,” Steve said. 

There was no way he was getting out of this bed to feed the dragon. “She can beg for scraps from the kitchen.” He reached out for a second pillow, but found nothing. Tony groaned and sat up to glare at the resident pillow thief.

Friday had started a habit of hoarding pillows. Which amused Steve to no end while Tony grumbled about needing to break her of the habit. Hoarding house dragons were impossible to live with.

Steve pulled him back into bed. “Let’s stay in bed,” he whispered against Tony’s skin, sending a shiver down Tony’s back.

“I don’t think that kings are allowed to sleep in,” Tony pointed out. “And you’re always up at dawn.” 

“We can try something different today.” Steve hooked his arm around Tony’s waist. He trailed a finger along Tony’s chin. And kissed the tip of Tony’s nose.

The promise of a morning in bed alone with Steve nearly overpowered Tony’s sense that something wasn’t right with Steve. A touch of desperation or sadness lingered in Steve’s sky-blue eyes. “Steve -- are you well?”

“I’m fine, Tony.” Steve hugged Tony tighter. “Never better.”

Tony wriggled out of Steve’s embrace. “No. Something’s not right.”

Steve rolled onto his back and said nothing. Tony poked him. Steve sighed. “Everything is fine.”

Tony would have thrown a pillow at Steve if there were any to spare. “Come on, Steve. Or I’ll sic my dragon on you.”

Steve was quiet for a long time. Bleating, Friday waddled over to nuzzle him. He patted her gently as she laid down next to him. Finally, he stammered, “If you want to go, I understand. I won’t stop you.”

Tony frowned. Were those tears in the corners of Steve’s eyes? “Steve, what are you talking about?”

“I know how much your friends and people mean to you. You’ve talked about rebuilding and fixing what Hydra damaged. Now you can.”

“Oh.” Tony sat back against the headboard. The bed creaked as he moved. He’d been after Steve about getting a larger bed with a better mattress. Like he’d had back home at Stark Peak. Oh. There was home and then there was home. “You think I’d leave?”

“T’Challa and Thor have gone. Carol is getting restless. I wasn’t sure how you felt --”

“There’s nothing for me back in Hatten.”

“But your friend --”

“I am the last of the Dragonlords -- I can always catch a ride to Park if I want to see Rhodey.” Tony reached out for Steve’s hand. “There’s nothing there for me now, there was nothing there for me before the old homestead burnt down. The dragons are more than happy to have their mountains back to themselves.”

“You mean -- you’ll stay?” 

“I have to stay. Friday would be annoyed, especially now that she’s found the best perching spots.” Friday chirped in agreement.

Steve sighed. “Tony.”

Tony squeezed Steve’s hand. “Steve, I decided I’d stay when I set up my first workshop. This is home for me now. I want to rebuild what’s been destroyed. With you.”

Steve smiled. A smile brighter than a hundred suns and it was all for Tony. Tony bent over to kiss Steve’s forehead. “And if I’m staying, I’m serious about you getting a new bed and mattress. ” Tony said. His fingers traced a pattern into Steve’s shoulder.

Laughing, Steve wrapped his arms around Tony again. “We’ll see, Tony. I’m not the wealthiest King.”

“Who needs riches? We have everything we need right here,” said the Dragonlord.

Steve kissed him in wholehearted agreement.


End file.
